


Runaway

by StepfordSnarker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming of Age, Future depictions of violence, Humanstuck, M/M, Race Headcanons, Religious Themes, Southernstuck, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StepfordSnarker/pseuds/StepfordSnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Missing Teenager: Karkat Vantas </i>- the newspapers would read- <i> Male, sixteen years of age, Latino, 5’6, last seen wearing a dark grey hoodie and faded jeans. </i> He knew his family would look for him, but he had to leave. He had to, no matter how much it terrified him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction- What He Brought

**Author's Note:**

> I'm excited for the long journey I plan to take this piece on and I hope you are too. They're in Tennessee because I was in a mood to write something close to home back when I was first inspired to write this. Anyways, thanks.

_Missing Teenager: Karkat Vantas_ \- the newspapers would read- _Male, sixteen years of age, Latino, 5’6, last seen wearing a dark grey hoodie and faded jeans. Please call (901)-682-8200 if you have any information._ He knew his family would look for him, but he had to leave. He had to, no matter how much it terrified him.

Ten years ago, he had been clutching his father’s leg to avoid being swept away by a bustling crowd. It was a Sunday; several Christian youth groups had joined together for a so-called "Celebration in Christ." A handful of Catholic, Baptist, and Methodist religious leaders had joined the gathering as well, including Father Vantas. The man was one of the few liberal priests around, both despised and applauded for his preaching. There weren’t many people who simply felt neutral towards him. His son, Kankri, the older of the two, was a prime example of this. Kankri was beginning what could be considered his “rebellious” phase, adopting a more conservative system of beliefs (totally polar to his father’s progressive outlook.) However, Karkat, as mentioned before, was still too young to actually have an opinion on the matter.

The younger boy stayed as close to his father as possible, easily frightened by the herd of overzealous bodies moving through Mud Island. It was a wonder that the boy hadn’t yet disappeared into the masses. However, it soon became apparent that another young child around Karkat’s age had. He came bumbling through the road with mussed up hair and disheveled, grubby clothing. Unknown to Karkat at the time, this boy’s name was Gamzee.

Father Vantas pulled the children from the congregation and into a calmer part of the street so they wouldn’t be trampled. The three of them waited for a good ten minutes before Gamzee’s father finally came to collect his lost sheep.

Pastor Makara was a tall man, especially when compared to Father Vantas’s short stature. His skin was russet and his hair was dark. Gamzee closely resembled his dad. The man didn’t speak his thanks, but simply gave a single, sober nod towards Karkat’s father.

Later on, Gamzee and Karkat were enrolled into the same Christian private school by chance. The two hit it off, both considered outsiders by the rest of their class, Gamzee for his oblivious demeanor and Karkat for his quickly developing temper. 

Within their second year of attendance, the school principal decided to hand out plastic technicolor rosaries to each student in honor of the Immaculate Conception- regardless of the fact that not every student was actually Catholic enough to give a damn.

As their teacher traveled through the rows of desks, handing each child a rosary, Gamzee made the astute observation that his neon purple prayer piece could glow in the dark. But, while he was absolutely infatuated with this new trinket, Karkat was less than pleased with his own. The small boy scrunched his face up at the obnoxious candy red color that seemed to taunt him. He even begged the teacher for a less offensive, possibly more neutral color like black or grey. She refused, being an adamant stickler to the notorious “Get what you get and you don’t get upset” rule.

When class had finally been dismissed for recess, Gamzee hung his rosary around his neck, thrilled about his new fashion accessory. Karkat wasted no time in telling his friend how flippant he was in doing so, stuttering through his sentence. “G-gamzee, you can’t wear those around your neck! O-only if you’re a priest or a soldier!” He exclaimed.

Gamzee’s face fell into a frown and he slowly removed the rosary from around his neck in shame, only to then wrap it around his wrist afterwards.

“I’ll race you to the swings!” he said before running off. Karkat followed behind reluctantly, leaving the red abomination abandoned on his desk.

After returning, they found that the rosary was gone, stolen by a nasty kid who sat in the back of the classroom, somehow managing to always smell like glue. The brat was tearing it apart with great joy, laughing at his own destructive actions. Karkat was killed with rage. His entire upper body felt frozen, vision blurred. The only satisfying release at that point was an explosion.

“That was mine, you stupid- you stupid fucker!” He screamed, hurling himself at the other child, who promptly began to cry. By the time the teacher had gotten to them, a small group of second graders had crowded around the two boys, chanting them on.

“What’s going on here?” She snipped, pushing through her rowdy students to pull the boys apart. The kid who had stolen Karkat’s rosary was the first to speak.

“He called me-” His eyes grew wide. “a-a-um,” and it was clear that the boy couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

“He called him a fucker.” Gamzee said brightly.

Before they knew it, both Karkat and Gamzee were seated in the hallway outside of the classroom, each facing their own corner.

“I’m sorry about your rosary…” Makara murmured quietly. Karkat sighed before replying. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have used adult words.” 

They were silent for a little while.

Then, Karkat felt something gently touch his hand. He glanced down to see the purple rosary now settled in his palm. When he raised his eyes again, he found Gamzee’s face with a wide grin. Karkat looked at his friend with a questioning expression.

“I don’t really want it if I can’t wear it around my neck.” Gamzee said, kicking at the tiled floor to make his sneakers squeak. Karkat decided that Gamzee was probably his best friend.

 

* * *

On the first day of third grade, Karkat noticed that his best friend was no longer sitting in his usual seat. In fact, he was situated on the opposite side of the classroom, and the kid beside him was someone Karkat had never seen before. His skin was dusky and his hair had been shaved into a mohawk. He required a wheelchair to move from place to place. Wheeling himself to the front of the classroom, he introduced himself as Tavros Nitram.

When the class stood up to say the daily pledge of allegiance, Gamzee sat with Tavros.

When the class recited the Hail Mary prayer, Gamzee was still talking to Tavros.

When the class opened their textbooks, Gamzee was laughing with Tavros.

What was Gamzee doing when class dismissed to recess?

He was still _fucking talking to Tavros_.

By the time lunch rolled around, Karkat had enough. Gamzee was _his_ best friend. Gamzee should be talking _his_ ear off. In a fit of irrational jealousy, Karkat decided to confront the new boy.

There he stood, in front of Tavros, fists clenched in anger as a brash, green demon overcame him. Karkat stuttered through false accusations over and over, though what he really wanted was to just truthfully scream- “You stole my only friend.”

By the time he’d finished, Karkat’s tear ducts had spilled over, leaving nothing but a feeling of serious regret and embarrassment along with the taste of salt. Tavros stared at the other boy with his mouth slightly open, trying to think of some way to respond to such an outburst. He had no clue was Karkat was talking about.

“Uh, do you mean Gamzee?” Tavros asked cautiously. “He’s, um, he’s told me a lot about you.” He said, offering a sheepish smile. Karkat blinked, not fully comprehending.  

“He has?” The boy squeaked. Tavros only nodded in reply.

Just in time, Gamzee returned, holding his lunch card. They went to eat together and Karkat accepted that he didn’t really hate the new kid all that much.

After a few weeks, he’d actually become grateful for Tavros’s presence. Nitram sat with them in class and filled the empty seat in the cafeteria. Sometimes he would even act as an audience when Karkat needed someone to rant at.

When winter rolled around, Karkat earned his first broken bone. His leg crushed under the rest of his body after an ill-advised jump from a swing with a little too much enthusiasm. He sat out during P.E. just like Tavros would most of the time. Karkat finally understood at least a little part of the shitty obstacles Tavros faced- and would face throughout his lifetime. His respect for him doubled, and maybe even tripled, from very little.

On Karkat’s birthday that summer, his father took the three of them to a small bakery to pick up his cake. His two friends decided this to be the perfect time to deliver his present: A rap with an ample share of expletives and very little substance. They were kicked out for making a racket, but Karkat still appreciated the gift. And also his cake.

 

* * *

 In fourth grade, Karkat took a computer class for the first time. He sat at the end of a very long row next to a lanky blonde boy named Sollux Captor, who spoke with an obvious lisp and had to instruct Karkat whenever he didn’t understand something. Between Sollux and Tavros sat a girl called Aradia Megido, who had long, curly brown hair that got stuck in the chairs sometimes. She played horror games when they were supposed to be working on typing lessons or powerpoint presentations.

Sollux knew how to code some basic html even though he was nine, so the teacher had him help Karkat with the stuff he couldn’t do, which was a lot. Sometime in the third week of school, Karkat broke down mid-class because he didn’t understand why his computer had two shift keys. When he wouldn’t listen to Sollux’s explanations, the lisping boy called him a “technologically impaired knucklehead,” which wasn’t terribly untrue. That was a long week for Sollux Captor.

They worked on a number of group projects together, often joined by Aradia. She and Karkat got along rather well because she made fun of Sollux, and that made the Vantas boy feel better. The trio figured out how to download a chat room called Pesterchum onto the school’s computers which they used to communicate during class when the teacher demanded silence.

Towards the end of May, Aradia’s parents took all of the children to see the final Indiana Jones movie, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. She gave Sollux a model of Indiana Jones's fedora and then gave Karkat a toy whip with speakers that echoed the harsh sound of a real one when struck against the air.

The whip later broke in eighth grade during a rough housing match with Gamzee, but that's another story. Karkat kept the thing anyway.

Sollux downloaded past chat logs between Karkat and himself to a flash drive on the last day of school that year. He didn't want to appear sentimental, so he pretended that it'd been an accident. The flash drive had not left Karkat's old backpack since the day Captor had given it to him.

 

* * *

 The flow of new students became boring again until sixth grade. All of the children who had been in fifth grade the previous year were moved to a new building where the middle schoolers took class. Karkat's locker was between Gamzee's and one belonging to a girl he had never met. Makara's locker was filled entirely with tattered books and loose papers from school assignments due long ago. Karkat's was cleaner, but not by much.

The girl's locker was not only immaculate, but very colorful. Seashell stickers decorated the exterior and the inside wall hosted a mirror with pink fabric bordering the edges. Karkat thought it was silly to put so much effort into embellishing something they only went to three times a day, but didn't say anything. Aradia's locker was even more ridiculous, as she decorated it differently depending on the next upcoming holiday- Halloween being her favorite.

There was a new girl named Nepeta Leijon who came two weeks later than everyone else because of issues at home. She had long black hair that curled fiercely, olive green eyes, and unintentionally slipped into an accent on occasion because her mom had lived in India for most of her life. Nepeta had never attended a private school before, so the teachers let it slide when she wore a blue beanie adorned with the face of a cat along with her uniform.

It became Karkat's job to show her around the school as punishment for cursing out another kid who’d spilled water on his homework in Science lab. When he told Nepeta this story, she giggled a lot and asked to hear a couple more anecdotes. He obliged, but started to get the feeling that she wouldn't be leaving him alone afterwards. He was correct.

Nepeta hung out around him whenever she got the chance. Sometimes she told him about her older sister Meulin, and sometimes she told him about her bestest friend in the whole wide world. His name was Equius, and he would be transferring to their school in the upcoming year. She said that he would sweat a lot and that he liked weird poetry.

On Valentine's day, Karkat received a heart cut-out from a "secret admirer." He might have wondered who had given it to him were it not for the fact that it was written in the same ink found in Nepeta's favorite green pen. He pushed her indirect advance aside because it made him nervous.

Later on, Nepeta made her feelings a bit more obvious. She tossed him a sheet of folded paper in art class. The message inside read "Do you like me?" along with two boxes labeled yes and no. When it landed, Karkat had a distinct feeling that he knew what it was, so he pretended as though he hadn't noticed it and brushed the note off his table oh-so-absentmindedly with his elbow. He didn't look up to see her crestfallen face.

The day before summer break, she gave it one more shot. Nepeta asked Karkat to meet her behind the gymnasium, so he did. After trying to stumble through her confession, she gave up and decided on a new tactic. She reached up and gave the boy a kiss on the cheek. Karkat admitted he couldn’t reciprocate, and left it at that for fear of making everything worse. She was a friend of his and he _did_ care about her feelings enough to try and salvage them.

Nepeta was embarrassed. He wanted to tell her that she had no reason to be, but before he could, she changed her mind on the spot. "N-no, that was a-a-um-a goodbye kiss." Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her, so he acted like he did. In reply, Karkat gave her a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye. He didn't see her again that summer.

She sent him a "neko" keychain that her sister Meulin had purchased at an anime convention for his birthday. He kept it on his backpack until he started to get teased for it.

 

* * *

 As Nepeta promised, a new student by the name of Equius Zahhak came to the school the following year. He was tall, and awkward, and very sweaty. A couple of kids teased him for the way he wore his greasy hair down like a girl's, and how he wore cleats with his uniform. He didn't speak much with the others, but Nepeta hadn't exaggerated when she said they were best friends. Those two were inseparable.

There were some other new students as well- Terezi Pyrope and Vriska Serket. They made up a risky duo.

Vriska was tall, blonde, and many, many steps ahead of her classmates in the puberty department. She wore huge glasses that she may or may not have actually needed in order to see, and never came to school in full uniform.

Terezi was tiny and scrawny with short black hair. She wore a pair of red glasses to block out her eyes. She was blind. Red was her favorite color because it was the only one she felt she might've understood when it was explained to her. She carried a variety of scented markers in her pencil case to every class.

She sat behind Karkat in home room and science class. She said he smelled the nicest. He told her that was a load of fraudulent bullshit. Then, she grinned widely, and it was the type of smile he would never be able to forget. Terezi Pyrope was Karkat's first real crush- and she was a fucking pain to be around for that exact reason.

In October, Nepeta held a "spooky" Halloween tea party at her house. She invited the entire grade, but made extra special sure to invite Aradia. Not only was she the best candidate for scary movie suggestions, but she was also Equius's crush. Nepeta prided herself on being the best wing woman out there.

When the party got started, Equius got nervous. Like, really _really_ nervous. Nepeta called Karkat into the kitchen to help calm him down, which they eventually did. It was a long night for Karkat.

Three weeks later, Equius sent him a little robotic crab along with an attached letter. It conveyed his thanks for all of Karkat's help, along with a guide of instructions for turning the creature on and off. Karkat didn't really believe himself to deserve such a gift, but the Zahhaks were a rich family that had founded a tech advancement company. It wasn't like producing a tiny robot was a complicated endeavor to them.

 

* * *

In eighth grade, Nepeta cut her hair short. Although she still wore the girls' uniform most of the time, some days she came to school in the boys’ outfit. Karkat had known early on after meeting her that some days she hated the plaid skirts and some days she loved them- but he didn’t understand why she was wearing the pants so adamantly when it was against the rules. Nepeta was teased by her classmates, but when Karkat offered to talk to her about it, she pushed the subject away. He gave up after a while, but continued to shut up any rude shitheads who tried to put her down for it.

Later on in the year, the class took a trip to St. Louis, Missouri to see a cathedral that Karkat really didn't give much of a shit about. Terezi joked on the bus about how the class's expedition was pretty much pointless to her; she couldn't see the church anyway.

On the way to St. Louis, the seating arrangement for the bus was strictly boy-boy and girl-girl, so Sollux sat with Karkat and Aradia sat with Terezi. They made a pact to switch places on the way back.

The cathedral was beautiful, but most of the class just wanted to get back to the hotel because there was a heated pool. Karkat wanted to leave because he'd already heard all of the biblical information that their tour guide was spewing in a monotonous voice from his father. He was sure Gamzee was tired of hearing the same stories too.

The bus wasn't there when they left the church and cold rain was pouring down relentlessly, soaking everyone from head to toe. They waited half an hour for the bus driver to return. The kids and chaperones were all in a pissy mood by the end of the day, and Karkat was glad to retire to the hotel room he shared with Tavros, Sollux, and Gamzee.

At ten, a chaperone announced that no one would be allowed out of their room after ten o' five, so Karkat decided to go for one last bathroom break. On his way back, Terezi stopped him outside of his door and kissed him. She ran off before anyone could catch and scold them.

On the way back to Memphis, Sollux sat with Aradia and Karkat sat with Terezi. She slept with her head resting on his shoulder the whole way back.

Then, in the last couple of months in school, Terezi finally confronted Karkat about his conflicted feelings. She grew tired of waiting, and he understood that. There was no clean break, because neither of them were really sure what their relationship was supposed to be in the first place.

She started hanging out with a public school kid named Dave Strider.

Karkat grew jealous and he hated himself for that. He'd never met Strider, but he hated him and all of the stupid fucking stories Terezi told about him.

One fated day, Karkat found Terezi's phone, and with it, Dave's pesterchum handle. The conversation that followed was ugly and embarrassing for both parties. According to Terezi, after that particular exchange, Dave began to ask about Karkat every now and then, knowing that it'd eventually get back to him and be generally irritating to be reminded of.

Terezi got Karkat a Bad Dragon dildo for his birthday as a joke with Dave's suggestion- "If he's going to act like a dick all the goddamn time, you might as well give him one,"

 

* * *

During the final week of school, the Leijon family was called into the counselor's office. When Nepeta came back to class, she seemed incredibly glum. Apparently she'd been asked to not return to the school for freshman year, as her "gender expression" would make the other students uncomfortable. When she explained this to Karkat and the rest of his class, there were a number of confused faces and a couple of angry ones.

"Couldn't you just start wearing the girls' uniform and grow out your hair again?" One girl suggested. Nepeta shook her head in refusal, saying that it just didn't feel _right_.

Upon returning home, Karkat asked his father if he could transfer for ninth grade. The fact that his own school had asked Nepeta to leave for the way she dressed made him feel uneasy. Father Vantas complied, but wasn't too happy about it.

Karkat spent his summer with Terezi and Vriska, as everyone else was busy with camping or part-time jobbing. Vriska's house was close to some hot spots in the city- like a bookstore, a laser tag venue, and a music store called SpinStreet, so they hung out at her place most of the time.

One Friday, the three of them went to a pet store. It was crowded because of some ground-breaking sale on dog food. The employees glared at the trio of unsupervised teenagers, as if daring them to try and pull anything. Vriska did. Vriska pulled something. A big something.

She set the spiders in the terrariums free, screaming something along the lines of- "Run! Run my arachnidic minions!"

The store went into chaos. The employees had to evacuate everyone outside, though the spiders were actually harmless. As for the three teenagers- they would never be allowed back again. Mostly Vriska, though.

They sat outside on the curb drinking soda afterwards. Karkat made sure to grab a Faygo for Gamzee, and after calming down a bit, Terezi started to ramble on about some Courtroom Case TV show she had caught the night before. While Terezi spoke, Vriska tapped Karkat on the shoulder and reached into her bag. She pulled out a small container which held one of the hermit crabs Karkat had been busy watching before Vriska had unleashed her Spider Armageddon of Terror.

With wide eyes, Karkat whisper-screamed at the thief. "What the fuck!? What made you think this was a good idea!? What-”

She rolled her eyes as if it wasn't a big deal. "Oh, relax. You've been looking like a depressed sack of shit ever since school let out. I thought you could use a little buddy," Vriska said, taking a sip of soda. "But whatever. I guess it's no biggie that I robbed a store to make you feel better. I guess I don't deserve any appreciation for such a grandiose stunt."

"That's not it. It's just," Karkat sighed. "how am I supposed to respond to an act of kindness so fucking absurd it got me banished _from Petco_." He replied. Vriska shrugged.

"Maaaaaaaybe a thank you is in order?" She grinned. Karkat grunted a reluctant thanks even though he really would be fine without a ‘little buddy’- as she’d called it- to take care of. He didn’t need any more responsibility right then.

The creature passed soon after. It didn’t even make it to July. Even so, Vriska gave him a cheap magic eight ball when it died. At least he wouldn’t have to feed his new toy.

 

* * *

 Karkat started public school for the first time in August. The school was gigantic and he was more than a little intimidated, especially because he wouldn’t know anyone there but Sollux’s older brother, Mituna, and the school nurse, Ms. Paint. Knowing Mituna was pointless because it wasn’t like Karkat enjoyed hanging out with him, and he only knew Ms. Paint because she went to church where his father preached.

He didn’t make any friends during his first week. Or his second. Even the third and fourth weeks were rather lonely, though he started to speak up more during class. He had to eat in the bathroom for a while, something he always thought was just a myth fabricated by _Mean Girls_ , because he never made it to lunch on time and there was nobody to save him a seat among the masses of boisterous students.

In his French class, Karkat met a girl named Kanaya Maryam. She was learning French because she felt it would allow her to better connect to her Seychellen ancestry or something along those lines. As far as school had gone, Kanaya was the only person Karkat could tolerate long enough to hold a decent conversation. They gossiped from time to time, but could usually be found discussing various romantic comedies or horrible reality television shows they indulged in as guilty pleasures. Kanaya seemed to prefer shows like Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model to Karkat’s bachelor/bachelorette programs- this was primarily because she was planning on working in fashion design.

When club sign-ups became available, she was the first person Karkat went to ask advice from. Admittedly, Kanaya didn’t know much about or show interest in the majority of the clubs. She did mention one that Karkat hadn’t been expecting.

“There’s a club for that here?” He furrowed his brow as she explained. There was a MOGAI club at the school. Karkat hadn’t understood the acronym at first, telling Kanaya that he had only heard “LGBT” before, without any additional letters-and even then, he had never known what every letter was meant to represent. Kanaya was more than happy to explain it to him, knowing full well that a priest’s son was bound to be at least a little too sheltered for his own good. She took him to the first club meeting. They were planning a group trip to the Mid-South Pride Parade, which Kanaya and Karkat both agreed to attend.

On the way to his locker that same day, Karkat noticed a flyer taped to his English teacher’s door. It screamed at the students passing by in bright green and gold letters- “ _ANONYMOUS ADVICE COLUMNIST SPOT OPEN. JOIN THE NEWSPAPER CLUB TODAY_.”

There was a moment of conflict within Karkat upon finding that poster. He could walk right past it and continue with the whole 'uninvolved freshman' thing he had going, or he could snap a picture of the provided details with his phone and actually go to the interest meeting. He chose the latter, fully knowing he would eventually regret the amount of added work load which was sure to follow.

A month later, Karkat was officially the new anonymous advice columnist, going by the non de plume 'Helpful Hannah.' It was the same one that his _female_ predecessor had used. The Newspaper staff reminded him that part of the magic of 'Helpful Hannah' was their anonymity; therefore, he shouldn't reveal himself as Hannah to anyone. Karkat assured them that this was no issue, as that would be the _last_ thing he would want.

Everyone who read the school newspaper, a pitiful few, could spot the switch in columnists almost instantly. Karkat's tone of voice was a strangely irritable one that bordered on demanding from time to time. His advice, however, was caring and educated. He received more letters asking for help than any columnist before him and his fellow newsclub mates began to notice too.

One letter in particular stood out to Karkat more than the rest. It came from a girl (or so he assumed) who was expressing her concern for a friend. But this wasn't just any friend, this was a friend she had never met in real life before. The letter stated that they’d known each other for about a year. Her friend was online once a week at the very least, but now she'd been absent for almost a month.

Karkat wasn't entirely sure why, but he read the letter in Kanaya's voice. Must've been the use of needlessly eloquent language.

He wrote back within the next day, as he knew how worried some people could get in such a situation, assuring the girl that it was far from abnormal for a web friend to disappear for long. He would have attached his personal email to the reply if it weren't for the whole stupid Superman/Clark Kent thing he supposedly had going on.

The following Monday, Karkat caught sight of Kanaya smiling widely at the Pesterchum app on her phone. He had a good feeling that everything was nicely resolved.

That summer, Kanaya and Karkat went to the Memphis Pride Parade. It was colorful and loud and the priest's son didn't remember most of it. What he DID remember was seeing Nepeta there. On her right wrist was a pink bracelet, and on her left a similar blue one. He wondered if there was any significance to that. Karkat would've asked, but he was being pulled off in another direction before it was possible.

Kanaya was dragging him to a booth with rainbow flags and pronoun stickers, meaning to introduce him to someone. A special someone. Her name was Rose Lalonde and she sat next to a guy whom Karkat would later learn to be called Bro. His shades were triangular and his hair stuck up in a way that didn't seem physically possible.

Rose was dressed unusually too- velvet dress with black gothic lipstick.

Karkat began to wonder if he was the only normal one there and concluded that- yes, he was- as a group of shirtless men painted in many bright colors ran past him.

By this point, he was feeling both physically and mentally drained, but he stayed until the end of the parade in order to support Kanaya. Later on, she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and a crimson tie she'd sewn up specifically for him. Karkat internally grimaced a bit at the color and the seamstress seemed to notice. She told him how the color suited him and sent a small smile his way before leaving.

It was the only piece of dress clothing he would stand to wear.

 

* * *

 Karkat took Theatre 1 during Sophomore year to get his fine arts credit out of the way. He thought it'd be an easy A, but it turned out to be one of the worst decisions of his life. That's what he'd say, but truthfully, Vantas would make many choices worse than that one.

There were two junior TAs in his class- both rich kids.

One was a short, chubby black girl who wore a lot of pink and spent most of her time with the swim team. Her name was Feferi, and she was adorable as fuck.

The other was what channels like MTV usually depicted as a skinny gay white boy. He wore a different designer scarf every day, complete with thick rimmed hipster glasses. Except Eridan Ampora wasn't gay, he was just a huge theatre nerd.

Karkat had met him before. Eridan was the Newspaper club's VP the previous year. However, they hadn't spoken to each other more than necessary back then. Sophomore year was different because Eridan was required to help out the kids taking Theatre for the first time, and Karkat was having every conceivable problem with his outside-of-class work.

One issue was transportation. The teacher required a writing assignment during each semester. Every student had to go catch a play and write a three page essay about it. Karkat was pretty much screwed because his father was always busy and Kankri refused to drive. Fortunately, Eridan- being the rich prick he was- offered to drive Karkat to the musical _Wicked_ which was being performed at their local fancy-schmancy playhouse at the time.

The musical was breathtaking, but Karkat wondered if he had been predispositioned to consider it that way since he'd never seen a real, professional play production before.

He felt like some sort of uncivilized alien compared to the rest of the theater-goers. The entire place was filled with women in gowns and men in suits. Even Eridan seemed to fit in spectacularly well, not that Vantas had expected any less of him. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, let alone care about his informal attire. Karkat was about ninety percent sure that if Kankri had been there, he would have forced his little brother into something a bit more pretentious and stiff, keeping up appearances and all kinds of excruciatingly pompous bullshit.

During the intermission, the Orpheum’s magnificent chandeliers lit up again, and Eridan turned to Karkat- seemingly to trade some small talk.

“Kar, I just wanted to thank you.” He said.

“Thank me? Why would you thank me?”

“Uh, you helped me earlier...with Fef.”

Karkat was baffled by this. He’d heard about a fight between Eridan and Feferi back in September, but otherwise played no part in it. He raised an eyebrow at the Junior.

“I’m pretty sure you and I weren’t talking back then, and I’m absolutely fucking certain that I haven’t said one word to Feferi.”

“Oh no, you see, you’re the advice columnist. I sent in a request for help which you answered and- well, it worked.” Eridan quickly explained himself.

It took Karkat a moment or two to rack his brain. Something he took pride in was remembering almost every single letter he’d received since taking up the position of Helpful Hannah. It was stupid. He was stupid. His memory made him feel like he deserved the position, though, and that’s all that mattered.

“You were fighting because you felt lonely and she told you she was growing tired of trying to help you when you refused to let her in. Dysfunctional communication is usually the dilemma.” Karkat slowly concluded, flicking his eyes over to meet Eridan’s for confirmation. Eridan nodded.

“Yeah, and I swear that I would’ve had to consider our friendship terminated if it weren’t for your help.” The upperclassman nearly smiled. “Fef’s real important to me, y’know?”

Karkat nodded. He knew exactly what Eridan meant, as even after transferring schools, he still had the same soft spot for Gamzee that he’d harbored in second grade.

“And Kar,” Eridan started. Karkat turned his attention back to him with a curious expression. “I was wonderin’ if you wanted to get some Starbucks later? I’m-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. What about that girl you were seeing a week ago? What happened to her?”

“You mean Jade? She’s aromantic. And I wasn’t trying to ask you out.”

“You said you were flirting with her; how is she aromantic?”

“Yeah, well, I thought we were flirtin’ but I guess I was being a little over-presumptuous. ‘Thought she was flirting back.”

“Did you stop when she told you?”

“Course I did! I mean, I didn’t really know what she meant at first. She had to explain it to me, but everythin’ was fine and dandy right after I apologized. She said it was fine but I still feel like a right fuckin’ idiot.” Eridan sighed.

The lights went down to signal the end of the intermission and the beginning of the second act. Karkat hesitantly lent a comforting hand to his classmate’s shoulder.

Eridan drove him home an hour later, after grabbing some preposterously over-priced coffee at Starbucks. Karkat was careful to be quiet while sneaking to bed because Kankri was sure to throw a bitch fit about his younger brother being out past curfew. He climbed into bed, successfully having avoided a lecture- but not before hiding the _Wicked_ playbill he’d snagged between two books on a shelf.

 

* * *

In March, Kanaya invited Karkat to a birthday party. He wasn’t sure whose it was, but she convinced him to go with the promise of a rom-com movie sleepover night at her house right afterwards. She even had him come to the Maryam residence to prepare beforehand, though he felt that her sudden interest in his apparel was more for her own amusement than his benefit.

Kanaya dressed him up like a barbie doll, handing him outfit after outfit, and sent him to the bathroom to try on each one. It took four to please her. They settled for charcoal chinos, a black button down, and the personally-tailored red tie; although Kanaya claimed that it was meant to pull the outfit together, Karkat thought the accessory to be out of place and too try-hardy. Kanaya playfully told him that he didn’t know what he was talking about and he wasn't stupid enough to disagree.

Porrim, Kanaya’s older sister, generously offered to drive them to the event. Karkat had a strong feeling that he'd met her before- maybe she was one of Kankri's friends- but he couldn't be sure. Either way, he was positive she'd been hitting on him. Maybe she meant it as some kind of confidence booster? He didn't really want to know.

The car ride was just long enough for Karkat to get a real grasp on what type of chick the birthday girl was. She lived in a gated neighborhood, where large houses lined freshly paved roads- not a single broken streetlight in sight. Her home was one of the biggest on the street. Fuschia balloons were tied to the iron mailbox outside, while blue and green streamers littered the yard’s flower bushes. The music was so loud Karkat could feel it hum through the car windows as Porrim pulled up to the sidewalk curb. He felt nauseated.

Kanaya pulled him into the house, smiling widely- probably excited to let everyone see how well she’d cleaned Vantas up. Karkat knew she took pride in her work, so he figured that being her model for the night wouldn’t be that bad.

He entered with false confidence and almost immediately regretted his decision to even go to that party. The halls and living room were filled with Juniors and Seniors from his school. He and Kanaya were two of the youngest people there, and on top of that, he felt like someone was staring at him no matter where he turned. By ten-thirty, Kanaya had left Karkat abandoned in the entertainment room. The boy had to force his eyes away from the television because _Titanic_ was playing and Karkat had an embarrassing soft spot for Leonardo Dicaprio. He’d never been able to sit through the entire movie without sobbing toward the end. It’d be mortifying to be caught crying at a rich kid’s birthday party.

By eleven, at least three couples were making out, the song playlist had been repeated twice, and the only soda left was red Faygo. Kanaya came in every once in awhile to check on Karkat and he acted like he was having fun whenever she did because his stupid pride demanded him to. Eventually, he grew tired of the act and headed to the bathroom. On his way, he found a convenient, private alcove beneath the stairs. He wedged himself into the hiding space to find it already occupied.

A girl stood there. Her dress matched the party decorations flawlessly- there were even seashells braided into her long, black hair. Karkat recognized her, only barely illuminated by the light of her cellphone’s screen, as the girl Eridan always spent his time with. Feferi Peixes. She squeaked in surprise, finally noticing Karkat’s presence.

“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry, am I in your way?” She asked, still looking down at her phone. Clearly she was distracted by whoever she was texting, so she probably wouldn’t mind someone sharing her under-the-stairs hideout. Karkat shook his head.

“No. No, it’s cool. I’m just trying to escape from the party is all. Fuck loads of people. Not a lot of space.” He said.

“Join the club,” she smiled, glancing up. “There’s plenty of room!”

Then she looked him over. “Hey, you’re the kid from Miss Henry’s Theatre class, aren’t you? You wrote your own monologue for the final project. It was adorabubble!”

“...Adorabubble?”

“Oops, inside joke.” Feferi’s eyes grew large, and she went back to her texting. Karkat made no effort to continue on the conversation, but apparently, Peixes wasn’t done with him yet.

“I guess, since you’re back here with me, you’re not the partying kind?”

“Yeah. You could say that. I don’t have much of a problem with crowds, but I really hate being shoved into a limited space with every other student from our school district.” He shrugged.

“How do you like it otherwise?” She batted her huge eyelashes.

“It’s...fine. Subpar music though,” He said, not bothering to notice her change in expression. “The same playlist’s been run through like ten times already, and it’s all trash I used to listen to back in junior high. Owl City, Avril Lavigne, and seriously? Katy Perry? Goddamnit she’s exactly what I wanted to hear. It’s not like her songs already dominate every fucking Top 40 station known to man.” His voice grew louder to overcome the music. The speakers were obnoxious and they gave him a serious migraine.

Feferi’s lips quirked up into a strange grin. “Who brought you here?” She questioned.

“Kanaya Maryam. Sophomore. Dark skin, green hair. She worked on costumes for the Spring Musical.” He explained.

“Oh! I know her! She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t tell you whose birthday it is?”

“Nope-” He replied, and then everything clicked. The dress, the rich-kid aura, the defensive atmosphere when he insulted the playlist. This was Feferi’s party. Crap.

A question rose in his mind. Why the fuck would Feferi Peixes be hiding away from her own birthday party? So he asked- “What the fuck are you doing hiding away from your own birthday party?”

She sighed, and held up her iphone. “Handling all of my birthday greetings, along with some personal drama,” She said. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know half of the people here anyway.” Concerned, Karkat asked her to tell him about it. She did. Eridan was being more needy and dramatic than usual- which was adding on so much more emotional baggage to her heirdom than she could handle. Her parents were constantly nagging her about the family business. She had great plans to rectify all of the injustices and maltreatment inflicted by their corporation once she could inherit it, but the pressure was still too much to handle at seventeen.

“It’s hard, Karkat. Being a kid and growing up. It’s hard and nobody understands.” She said. Those words rang through his mind for hours after the party, even after telling Kanaya that he no longer felt up to a sleepover, returning home, and sneaking back into bed.

 

* * *

  _A purple rosary,_

_A homewritten rap,_

_A flash drive full of old chatlogs,_

_A broken toy whip,_

_A disgustingly cute cat keychain,_

_A robotic crab,_

_A Bad Dragon dildo,_

_A cheap magic eight ball,_

_A hand sewn red tie,_

_A_ Wicked _Playbill,_

_And a statement from the heart, so true it hurt._

He packed these things away into a suitcase. It didn’t matter how much extra weight they added. He couldn’t bare to part with them, couldn’t bare to part with his friends. Karkat knew he’d have to learn to, but it pained him too much right then.

It rained. The drops came rushing from the sky, hitting the pavement with a continuous chorus of sound, drowning away his thoughts. The night was black- blacker than his suitcase, blacker than his bed’s comforter, and blacker than the feeling of loss which tugged at his chest- though grotesquely melodramatic- but hey, it felt right in his own mind.

He weeped, choking silently in the dark. If he was too loud, either his father or Kankri would surely hear him- and then his entire plan would be diminished. Not that there was much of a plan at all. Karkat had set up Google Maps to find the nearest bus stop and grabbed a substantial amount of his hard-earned cash, but was otherwise clueless. He didn’t know where the hell he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stay there. The zipper of his bag closed up with finality, and off he was.

Every step he took resounded through the hallway. He never found it difficult to be untraceable during the daytime, so why was it so impossible right then?

He made it out the door by two in the morning. The rain had let up considerably, and Karkat began to walk to the bus stop, praying that none of the Memphis police officers were actually serious about curfew hours.

 ****  
  



	2. Psychic Readings, Fidgety Assholes, and Fake Uncles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for brief mentions of suicide.  
> 

_Maybe I should have left some kind of note_ , the boy thought to himself as he dragged his sneakers over the street’s rocky pavement. It was quiet outside, save for the occasional rumble of cars on the road. He could still feel the stain of tears against his cheek and hoped to god that no one would be around to notice. After nearly half an hour, Karkat almost forgot that running away was the thing he was supposed to be doing and felt more like he was just taking a lengthy walk. It seemed to calm his body down; he wasn’t trembling any longer, and his head had stopped palpitating like a goddamned drum.

There wasn’t much to look at, and Karkat couldn’t bare his own thoughts at that moment, so he lost himself in the rhythm of footsteps and the small valleys separating each concrete block on the ground. It wasn’t hard to go numb. It hurt more to think at that point.

 _What the hell? The bus stop isn't supposed to be this far away_ , Karkat kicked a stone absentmindedly with the inside part of his shoe and lifted his eyes from the ground again. _This could be possibly the shittiest time for Google Maps to fail me_. After an additional ten minutes of walking he concluded that it had, in fact, failed him. Shadowed storm clouds began to roll in again, and Karkat inwardly swore at himself for forgetting both his umbrella and his rain jacket. Water started to pour from the sky. He ducked under a thrift store’s awning, jutting out just enough to keep the boy from getting soaked. _This sucks ass._

He had two options present- look around for an open store and take refuge there, or say fuck it and go back home. He refused to acknowledge the second choice. It’d be pathetic to give into the weather so easily- and whatever lay ahead couldn’t be worse than what he’d left behind.

He figured no stores would be open so early in the morning- but it really couldn’t hurt to check.

Karkat trudged down the sidewalk, shoulder almost scraping against the buildings’ walls as he went. Every door hosted a sign reading “closed” or “come back later.” Each window was darkened. There was only one exception sitting at the end of a long row. The light called him forward, and he followed. Then, the boy gripped the entrance door’s handle and pushed inside, too preoccupied by his own luck to read the banner outside.

_Psychic Readings and Fortune Telling_

A toasty embrace greeted Karkat immediately. He sighed into the room’s warmth and inhaled the dusty perfume of incense. It reminded him of church in a way. “True love,” A voice spoke. He whipped around to locate the source and found a woman several feet away. She sat at an ornate table and smiled ever-so-slightly.

“Excuse me?” Karkat’s voice came out scratchy and weak.

“The incense, darling. It’s called _True Love_. A ten-stick bundle will only cost you three dollars.”

“I smell enough of that on a daily basis. But thanks.”

The two of them were silent for a moment. The woman dropped her smile.

“Do you plan on having your fortune read or are you going to stand around loitering?” She asked, motioning to the velvet stool which sat across from her. Karkat chewed the inside of his cheek in contemplation. The woman feigned patience.

“How much?” He asked.

“You seem troubled. I’ll cut you a deal. Let’s say fifteen dollars.”

“Five.” Karkat snarled.

“What do you take me for?” The woman hardened her eyes at him.

“A manipulative bitch who gets paid to regurgitate obvious information back at her simple-minded customers.” He said.

Somewhere outside, a wind chime sang quietly in the storm.

“Ah, I see, another cheeky brat," the woman sat back in her seat. "Listen Crabby, I don’t owe you shelter from the rain. If you plan to hide out here until the morning sun bears her golden teeth at us, I expect some respect. Capisce?” She pulled out a deck of cards and began to shuffle them.

“Capisce,” Karkat reluctantly muttered.

“Thirteen.”

“Eight.”

“Ten.”

“Alright. Fine. Let’s just get this fraudulent fucking gimmick out of the way.”

 

* * *

“Your name?”

“Karkat Vantas.”

“Hm. Cancer zodiac, I take it?”

“Yeah.”

“High school boy. Finished up your classes yesterday?”

“Obviously.”

“What’s a high school boy doing out on streets alone before sunrise?”

“You’re the psychic. You tell me.”

“ _Completely_ at a loss here.”

“Hah, sure. Are you planning to call the police? Is there a giant alarm button hidden beneath your dollar store crystal ball?”

“It’s not my place to interfere with fate, Crabby. You’re destined for this journey.”

“Bullshit.”

“I see a road. I see tilts and turns- some breaks and dents.”

“Your hands are cold, lady.”

“Shush. I see red. This can mean many things- passion, love, anger, hate, blood. Usually, a color’s significance is clear but I’m not sure what this shade is. I also see a cross. You’re Christian, yes?”

“...I guess.”

“A crucifix then.”

“Am I screwed?”

“Not necessarily. The cross can symbolize many things-”

“Skip it.”

“Skip it?”

“I don’t want to know.”

“...”

“What? Is that all you have? Do you need a fucking fortune prompt?”

“No, but is there anything you wish to ask me?”

“...Yeah. I think so.”

“Go on.”

“Have I met my soulmate?”

“You don’t believe in soulmates. I can tell.”

“No, but reading enough romance novels can really fuck with a guy’s head, so tell me if I’ve ‘missed my chance’ or whatever.”

“You won’t like the answer.”

“Don’t care. I paid ten dollars.”

“In a way.”

“Let me reiterate. I paid ten. mother. fucking. dollars.”

“I see that your string of fate has passed its other end briefly. I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”

 

* * *

The sun rose up above the retreating grey storm clouds. Karkat returned to his mission. Fortunately, the psychic had known where to find the nearest bus stop and was gracious enough to point the boy in that direction free of cost.

 _“Listen, I don’t know where you picked up the nickname ‘Crabby,’ and I don’t know whether it’s something cute you do for everyone or if I’m some sort of special case, but I don’t appreciate it,”_ was the final thing he’d said to her.

 _“I’ll keep that in mind if our paths come to cross again.”_ She’d replied. He had a feeling they wouldn’t.

The bus stop was cold and wet. The boy groaned irritably as he sat down, feeling the seat of his pants soak with rain water. His cellphone felt heavy in his pocket. _No, I can't call anyone_ , he convinced himself. _I don't need help, I can figure this all out by myself_.

But no matter how many times he repeated it, Karkat had no clue where he was going from this point on. He wished for a little bit of guidance- proper guidance, not the spiritual hogshit he'd needlessly paid ten dollars for. Then, as if on cue, the screen of his phone lit up, shining through the denim of his jeans. The Pesterchum app gleamed in citrus colors, paining Karkat's eyes as he pulled it out of his pocket.

 

\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TC: what's all up and going on with you, my brother from another mother?

CG: What the keister-fisting fuck could you possibly want at three in the morning?

TC: just try'na check up on you

TC: best friend.

CG: Why are you even awake?

CG: ...

CG: Did you just shrug? You know I can't see you, right???

TC: oops. hahaha looks like i all up and motherfuckin forgot

CG: Fuckin' lol.

TC: hahahaha

TC: for serious though what's up, my brother?

 

Karkat swore under his breath. His eyes filled with tears. _Goddamnit, calm down. You won't miss this asshole- You won't. Shit, stop crying, you useless fucking pansy_.

 

CG: Nothing, really. I'm just

 

_Shit, what am I doing?_

 

CG: I'm watching a movie.

TC: well come on now, are you planning to tell me what flick it is you’re all cozied up in a giant amorous burrito blanket with or what

CG: 50 First Dates.

TC: ain’t you seen that already?

CG: Wow. It’s almost like people purchase copies of films in order to watch said films later on their own home devices. How fucked up would that be? I am so goddamn glad that no one ever actually does that!

TC: i SeE wHaT yOu’Re GeTtIn At

TC: WhAt’S tHaT mOtHeRfUcKeR’s NaMe AgAiN?

TC: tHe OnE wItH tHe SiZeAbLe ScHnOzZ

CG: It’s Adam Sandler, and Jesus crotchfondling Christ I thought we were done with those fucking impractical quirks.

TC: nAh, CoMe On BrO

TC: sHiT fEeLs So MoThErFuCkIn RiGhT

CG: I’d rather be caught dead with my hand pumping my dick while godforsaken My Little Pony: Fornication Is Magic is on the television than join in the moronic “Typing With Half-Witted Douchebags: Volume One” shenanigans you seem so fucking bent on.

TC: :o(

CG: No

CG: Fuck no.

CG: Don’t pull that fucking emoticon on me, you shitty doucheclown.

TC: jOiN mE iN mY tYpOgRaPhIcAl MeRrImEnT, mY bRoThEr

CG: ...

CG: THAT’S NOT WHAT TYPOGRAPHICAL MEANS.

TC: :o?

CG: I MEAN, AT LEAST I DON’T THINK THAT’S WHAT IT MEANS.

TC: DoEsN’t MaTtEr

TC: LoOk At YoU bEsT fRiEnD

TC: aLl Up AnD TyPiNg WiTh ThE bIgAsS lEtTeRs

CG: YES, MY LETTERS ARE THE BIG-ASSEST LETTERS AROUND.

CG: THEY COMMAND YOU WITH THE INTIMIDATING STRINGENCY OF TWELVE MILITARY GENERALS PREPARING THEIR LOWER-RANKS FOR THE FINAL LINGUAL BATTLE. THE LAST LEXICAL STRIFE.

TC: ThE uLtImAtE wOrD wAr

CG: HAHAHA YES!

CG: OKAY. SERIOUSLY, I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND.

TC: I aM aLl EaRs FoR yOu AnD yOuR vErBaL sPiLlInGs, BrO

CG: OKAY. GOOD.

CG: UM.

CG: SHIT, THIS IS HARDER THAN I THOUGHT.

CG: GAMZEE, I MIGHT NOT SEE YOU FOR AWHILE.

TC: i KnOw, SuMmEr VaCaY aNd AlL tHaT mOtHeRfUcKiNg MiRtHfUl FeStIvItY

CG: UH, YEAH. VACATION IS WHAT I MEAN.

CG: AND DUDE, I SAID DON’T INTERRUPT ME.

TC: oOpS

CG: IT’S WHATEVER.

CG: ANYWAY I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU SO THAT YOU’RE NOT WORRYING OR ANYTHING, I GUESS.

TC: nO sWeAt

 

The bus pulled up to where Karkat sat and screeched to a halt. It took a moment for the boy to register that he was supposed to get on. He quickly typed out a final message to Gamzee.

 

CG: AWESOME.

CG: I NEED TO GO

CG: BYE

 \-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering termiallyCapricious [TC] \--

 TC: CaTcH yOu LaTeR CrOcOdIlE

TC: wAiT nO, tHaT jUsT dOn’T sOuNd RiGhT

 \-- termiallyCapricious[TC] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

 

\-- termiallyCapricious [TC] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

 TC: i FoRgOt To AsK wHaT yOu WeRe AlL uP aNd WiShInG fOr YoUr BiRtHdAy

TC: TaV sAiD hE cOuLdN’T tHiNk Of NoThInG

TC: tHaT bRo HaD nOnE oF tHe ClUeS

TC: nOnE oF tHeM

TC: aLrIgHt wElL i GuEsS yOu’Re GeTtIn OcCuPiEd WiTh It

TC: In AwHiLe AlLiGaToR

 \-- termiallyCapricious [TC] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

 

The bus felt humid and warm like the rest of the city. Karkat stepped aboard and paid for his ride. He couldn’t read the look the bus driver gave him, but it was something far less than pleased.

There were only two other passengers- an exhausted fast-food restaurant worker (he could tell by the uniform) and a middle-aged, mildly uncomfortable woman who flinched away as Karkat passed her to his own seat. Trash littered the floor, dust and dirt wedged between window panels. Karkat sat towards the back of the bus and leaned his head against the filmy plastic.The weight of his eyelids tugged and tugged downwards until he could stand to stay awake no longer. A yawn emerged from the back of his throat. Karkat drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

He awakened to the presence of another teenager sitting next to him. Judging by the sun’s glaring grill it must have been about 6 or 7 a.m. Karkat pulled his hood up and angled his face out of view. Who was this douchebag and why had he taken a seat right fucking _there_ of the countless open spaces available?

Karkat noticed that it was even hotter since he'd woken up. Two pools of sweat collected at the armpits of his shirt. _Fucking Memphis…_

He turned his head to view the stranger. The kid wasn’t anything special compared to the people Karkat went to school with, but one thing did stand out. He wore shades. He wore shades inside of a bus. Seriously. Aviators to be precise, like a fucking grade A secret-menu-at-starbucks-drinking, blank-sketchbook-carrying, “I-listened-to-them-first” certified hipster.

An expensive headphone set perched over his ears. The teen was engrossed with some article on his phone.

“Can I ask why you’re sitting here?” Karkat grumbled.

There was no reply.

Karkat cleared his throat.

Still no answer.

Jesus, how loudly was this guy blasting his music?

"I swear to god, I'll never understand how some people can slaughter their eardrums with full-volume cacophony like that. I’m not surprised that you’ve gone practically fucking deaf.” He slowly trailed off. “Ass-wiping dolt…”

When Karkat looked back at the unfamiliar teenager again, he was removing the headphones and settling them around his neck. He lifted an eyebrow over his shades in question. Then he tapped the headphones with two fingers.

“‘Was between songs,” he explained. Karkat recoiled awkwardly. How much had this stranger heard him say?

“Dolt. Good one, but could use some improvement. Lil' bit too sixteenth century," He said.

"Sorry, I forgot to brush up on my contemporary discourtesy list before I boarded. Hopefully I haven't made an ass of myself in doing so." Karkat replied, rolling his eyes. "Can't you see all of the empty spaces around? What level of indecency must a person be cursed with in order to feel justified in harassing someone who’s obviously pretty damn under the weather?”

The other teen shrugged. “First of all, harassment is a strong accusation considering the fact that I was just minding my own business up until the point when you, you know, tossed an unwarranted Shakespearean insult my way. Second, how can you even be positive that the bus wasn’t chock-full five minutes ago? Maybe this was the only seat left. Or maybe I saw a dude sleeping alone, defenseless and unguarded and thought ‘I should sit by that guy. I can deflect the creeps and potential assailants.’ Maybe-”

“Holy shit, please stop talking. If the windows weren’t bolted shut I would have jettisoned myself already.” Karkat groaned.

“Maybe I know you.” The teen finished with a smug expression.

Karkat looked down at his hands, fingers fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. His thoughts were still fuzzy. He couldn’t comprehend what this douche had just said. “Excuse me?”

“Vantas. Terezi’s old boyfriend…” The stranger seemed to think for a second. “-ish thing.” He added. Karkat’s eyes flicked back and forth, first glancing at the teenager and then setting upon his hands again. They narrowed.

“Terezi and I never dated.”

“Hence the ‘-ish thing.’”

“Who the fuck _are_ you?”

“Dave Strider. TurntechGodhead. The dude you assaulted via Pesterchum at least six times.”

Karkat’s mouth fell open and he turned his head to face Dave soundlessly.

“Did she never show you any pictures of me? Damn, I must’ve seen like a million of you.” Dave admitted.

“I’d get irrationally pissed off whenever she so much as mentioned you. Terezi’s smart; I guess she reasoned that showing me photos of the new guy she was suddenly spending so much time with could’ve set me off. And she wouldn’t’ve been wrong. I was a pretty gargantuan asshole back then.” Karkat said.

“You didn’t search her phone or nothing? No offense man, but you kind of seem like the type of guy who’d Instagram stalk all of his ex’s semi-romantic cohorts.”

Karkat sighed in exasperation. Out of seven billion people on the planet, of course he'd run into (who he assumed to be) Terezi's current boyfriend.

"Well guess what, fucknuts? I'm not." he muttered. He dropped his head against the bus window again and stared straight forward. The rumbling vibrations numbed his tired mind. _Go away go away go away please go the fuck away._

Dave stared at him for a few more seconds and then looked away. An awkward air settled between the two. He placed his headphones on again after a short moment, closed his eyes, and leant back into the seat. Karkat exhaled in relief, letting his eyes fall against the quick-blurring colors of the outside city, the window humming against his skull. They sat alone together like that for a while. The serenity prompted Karkat to let his thoughts wander.

_I’m going to need to figure out how to get food. And where I’m staying. Fuck, maybe I’ll just hit up a Walgreens and buy every bottle of Ibuprofen they have in stock._

Something began to jostle the seat.

_No, that’s stupid. I’m too much of a coward for that...and they’d call Dad._

It continued.

“Okay, what the fuck.”

No answer.

Karkat looked down. Dave was jiggling his leg. Oh, so he was one of _those_ fidgety assholes.

“Strider,” Karkat grumbled. He reached for Dave’s headphones and pulled on the closest speaker. Then, he let go. It snapped back against the teenager’s head, drawing out a sharp yelp. Dave reached up immediately and pressed an open palm to his ear.

“What?” he hissed. "I thought we had reached some tacit agreement that the Douchebag Assembly of Grumps McGee and Dave Quixote had ended."

"I was under the same impression, but your impudent ass decided to remain cemented to that seat in an act of-- what I guess _you’d_ consider tenacious pride-- leaving me astonished by the sheer amount of atmospheric awareness you lack." Karkat replied, his voice scraping along and growing louder toward the end.

Dave opened his mouth to speak, glaring sideways at the other, but chose otherwise. Karkat shifted to face the window again, elbow positioned on the armrest, hand propping up his tired head. “Holy fuck, if you're going to sit here just, I don't know, act like you aren't." He muttered. The sound came out muffled because his head was turned away, but Dave got the idea.

Strider mulled over his words.

"Goddamn, man. Why are you on the bus this early in the A.M. anyway? You look like a drowned puppy that hasn't slept in two weeks."

"That doesn't sound a whole lot like pretending to not be here." Karkat shut his eyes and attempted to expel the pounding in his brain. "And that's none of your business."

He could sense Dave's eyes on the back of his head. It made him tense up, his stomach feeling sick.

"Uh, yeah. But the thing is, you look pretty damn down, and I'd be hells of guilty walking off this bus after conversing with you."

"Are you implying that you'll be arrested for assisted suicide?"

"Dude WHAT. No, I was talking about-- whatever. Now I sure as fuck am not leaving you here alone."

"Calm down, I'm not killing myself."

"What're you doing then? Running away to the circus?"

Karkat's eyes fell to the floor.

"Ha. Bingo."

"Don't be ridiculous, asswad. Silence doesn't always equal a yes, otherwise mimes would be perpetually fucked."

Dave watched Karkat steadily for a moment, like he was waiting for the proper answer.

"Jesus, fine. You were half right." Vantas admitted.

"I'm a be seriously disappointed if the half I'm right about isn't the circus part."

Karkat snorted. "You’d better don your most downcast frowny face because I'm about the farthest thing from an acrobat."

Dave furrowed his brow. "Why are you running away?"

"Once again," Karkat rasped. "None of your fucking business. But I appreciate the blatantly forced concern."

"You got a place to go?"

"Shit, you're even asking about my plans!? Strider, you should really consider getting into professional theater."

"Should I take that as a no?" Dave looked down at his cellphone to check a new message. The wheels in Karkat's head began to turn.

"No- I mean no, I'm staying with my...uncle. In West Virginia."

"You're taking a bus all the way over to West Virginia?" Dave raised his eyebrow with incredulity.

Karkat nodded, stiffly, in reply.

"I hope that wasn't your best attempt at a lie 'cause that was wicked pathetic."

"Shut up."

"My bro's out on a business trip, so there's an opening at my place. I know we're kind of, well, not on BFF turf, but Freshman year my Lifetime Wellness teacher was all like 'don't you EVER leave someone alone if they so much as MENTION suicide.' And I was like 'but Juliet’s whole goddamn cadaverous stratagem was ruined because Romeo couldn’t keep his tits chilled when he thought she’d checked into Motel Deep-Six,’ and she didn't seem too thrilled with me after that-"

"Gee, I can't imagine why."

"-but malapropos reply notwithstanding, the lady had a point."

"I'm not going with you to whatever trashy hole it is you call home."

"Hey, it was just an offer. Think of it as one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books-- turn to page 22 if you want to come to Casa de Strider, or turn to page 56 to continue on the road to your fake uncle's house-- but I'm not gonna be some creepy-ass librarian standing behind you, breathing down your neck like ‘page twenty-twoooooo. your uncle is bullshitttt.' I just know that, if I were you, page 22 would be my first pick because there's video games and pizza and, oh shit! It's not fictional." Dave made a very pointed look toward Karkat. It succeeded only in drawing an unimpressed glare from the priest’s son.

He rolled his eyes and said in a low voice- “Under the assumption that your place is in Tennessee, don’t you think it’s kind of inevitable that the police will find me? Unless you have some kind of newfangled cloaking device in your possession, I might as well just turn around now and walk up to the police station with a sign across my chest reading 'runaway teen, pls detain immediately.’”

Dave began to speak at an equal volume.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s inevitable. We live in an apartment complex, and not to brag, but Bro’s got a ton of cash to shell out on security. It’s as safe a bet as any.”

Karkat determined that this reasoning was probably flawed, but he could feel a hollow space where he was sure his stomach was supposed to be and his consciousness was threatening to give at any moment from the sleep deprivation. He gave it one last shot.

“What if I’m actually just a serial killer relying on the sympathetic nature of somewhat-strangers to play the good Samaritan so that I can enact my assassination plot with as little effort as possible?”

Dave almost looked amused at that.

“We have swords,” he countered.

Then Karkat’s stomach released a tremoring growl. He winced, partly because of the sound and partly because of the embarrassment it withdrew.

“If you’re hungry we can stop by this donut shop I know. You can eat and catch a few Zs while I’m running an errand down the road. We’re almost there anyway.”

“I can’t sleep in a donut shop.”

“They have bacon donuts, dude.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Also, that sounds terrible.”

“No one’s going to judge you for sleeping at Gibson’s. The only people there this early are the employees. They don’t have a breakfast rush until Sunday.”

The bus started to decelerate. Dave stood up, pushed his phone into the left pocket of his jeans, and tossed a backpack over one shoulder. He looked at Karkat expectantly, and Vantas met him with a tired gaze of unease.

“Look, man, we can go and grab a bite and order some coffee to go. It’s on me. Then I just have a few things to take care of and I swear we’ll go straight back to my apartment. No funny business. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t wanna.”

They traded the same expressions as before, but this time Karkat’s melted away into weary assent. They hopped off the bus, headed to Gibson’s, and then Gamestop, and then a camera store.

As soon as they entered Dave’s apartment, Karkat flopped onto the sofa and fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really...don't have an explanation for not posting since July. I can spew as many excuses as I'd like, but it mostly just boils down to procrastination. I actually have the next one outlined already so it shouldn't take 7 months (holy shit!) to write + post.  
> This made me realize how absolutely abysmal I am at writing Gamzee. Sorry.
> 
> Thanks to tumblr user LiterallyKanaya for beta-ing!


	3. Orphan Party With MC Twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 413!!!  
> Look! it wasn't seven months this time.  
> 

Karkat slept on and off through the majority of Saturday. Dave left him alone.

Sunday morning, he awoke with the spark of his internal alarm clock. This was routine back at his home, where Father Vantas preached an 8 a.m. mass and rose early to take care of his church duties.

Karkat suffered a moment of confusion. Where was his bed? The bookshelves? The movie posters on grey bedroom walls?

Instead, a flat-screen TV stood about a yard away, flashing multicolored cartoon images in his direction. It had (considerately) been turned on mute. Two customized game controllers sat on the carpet in front of the TV. One was persimmon orange; the other was apple red.

And the puppets.

Karkat didn’t want to know about the puppets.

He slowly recollected memories of the day prior, reaching for the phone which had been carelessly discarded from the couch during his extended nap. He read the time and his heart sank.

By now everyone would know he was missing. Father Vantas wasn’t dressing himself in Clerical vestments for the day, but panicking. He was calling relatives and close family friends to track his son down. Twenty-four hours was the usual requirement to register a missing person’s report; it had been somewhere around thirty now.

Karkat rubbed his eyes and clicked the button to shut his phone off. He tugged a blanket around his shoulders, yawning, and wondered where that blanket had even come from- positive it hadn’t been there yesterday.

He lazily cast his eyes around the room and paused when they came to rest on Dave. The teen was laying on the floor several feet away, conked-out like an infant on nyquil. His laptop was sitting open next to him, bathing his tranquil face in electric blue light.

…Must have passed out before he could remember to retire to the bedroom.

Karkat sighed, brain going completely blank. He stared at Dave’s sleeping face for a minute before finally standing up to stretch. Maybe not blank. Maybe numb. Numb was the word.

Karkat realized that he was coated in a layer of salty tears and sweat. _Gross_.

He stepped over the game controllers to stand above Dave’s unconscious form. Then, he kicked the sleeping boy. But, like, just a little tap on his side.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Can I use your shower?”

“What time is it?” Dave sat up and yawned, running a hand through his hair and then rubbing his face.

“Uh, like eight fifteen.”

“Oi,” he fell backwards onto the carpet again and shut his eyes. “Too early.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Please click refresh.”

Karkat huffed. “Can I use your shower?”

“Yeah, down the hall. First door on your right.”

“Alright, thanks.”

The runaway reached into his suitcase and pulled out some clothing resting on the top layer. He began for the restroom.

“Oh, and ignore the Owen Wilson poster. It’s temporary,” Dave added as an afterthought. Karkat stared at him for a moment, but the former offered no further explanation.

He went and showered, trying to avoid sharing any eye contact with Owen’s gun metal blues. Though, if one were to choose a man to mount on their bathroom wall, Owen Wilson was far from the worst option. From _Marley and Me_ to _Midnight in Paris_ , Wilson captured the hearts of many a forty year-old spinster. His large nose and equally large talent took the movie industry by storm and _what the fuck are you saying_.

Karkat stepped out of the shower and dried off. He met his own gaze in the mirror. Somehow the Strider household’s idiosyncratic décor had actually managed to make him forget about everything. At the temporary expense of his sanity, of course.

He pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. After leaving the bathroom, his dark brown hair was already curling up again. Dave was sitting on the sofa, clicking through channels on the television- now unmuted.

“I think we’re married now,” Karkat stated.

“Huh?”

“Owen Wilson and I.”

“Oh.”

“It was beautiful.”

“He’s a beautiful man.”

“His nose is kind of big though.”

“Acknowledged.”

Karkat walked over to the couch, still rubbing the towel on his hair. “Whoa, hey, go back to channel five.”

“Why? It’s always the same thing. Murder and rape. Kind of a bummer.”

“You’re stowing a runaway in your apartment and you don’t want to check and see if _maybe_ that runaway is being, I don’t know, tracked down this very moment?” he shrugged for the sole purpose of embellishing this rhetoric.

“You’ve got a point.”

Channel five was on again; lo and behold, a photograph of Karkat from Freshman year filled up about half of the screen. The second half read key information like his age, height, and race.

Something about seeing himself on the same early morning news show (on which he was accustomed to only seeing complete strangers) was surreal. He spaced out for a moment, then blinked back into reality at the sound of Dave’s voice.

“Seems like they got on it pretty fast. Someone must care about you.” He said, sending a sideways glance at Karkat.

“Yeah. Dad probably freaked out,” he deflated against the couch. “I can’t believe this actually fucking happened. How did I even manage to fall this hard this fast? One minute I’m writing an email and the next I’ve tripped down the staircase of inexcusable dumbfuckery and ended up with a face full of concrete and terror,” he sighed. “What am I going to do?”

“...Dude, I already told you that you can stay here awhile. Why d’ju leave anyway? Is there a gang war going on? Is the CIA after you? Drug bust? Daddy issues?”

“Please, my family is the least of my problems.”

“You’re the first teenager to say that ever.”

Karkat shook his head. “No, I’m serious.”

Dave leant back into the couch, flipping through the channels once more. His shades, which were now adjusted correctly on his face, glinted in lights of magenta and azure from the TV. Karkat wasn’t as bothered by the glasses as he had been the previous day. He satisfied himself with the knowledge that such a douchey trend on such a douchey guy could justify his irrational anger with him.

But still, Strider _had_ invited him to stay. He even paid for the donuts. What an ass.

“And no offense, but I’m still not up to talking about-” Karkat’s voice wavered for a moment. He internally slapped himself. “-what happened,” he finished.

“That’s cool,” Dave said a bit too quickly. Maybe he wanted to avoid the subject too.

Emotions, especially in the presence of a stranger, were messy as hell.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, as if they’d learned nothing from the bus ride. Dave rectified the situation by cranking up the TV’s volume to an unholy level. Karkat didn’t complain. Eventually, the boy's eyes left the screen and fell to his suitcase. He sent a sideways glance to Dave, waiting for the next commercial.

“I’ll be out of here as soon as possible. Two days at most.”

“Hey, chill. For the last time, it’s fine if you need to stay here a little longer. I'm not gonna go kicking Oliver fucking Twist out of the orphanage just ‘cause it’s a little bit awkward that I’m dating Annie.”

“From that comment I can draw two conclusions,” Karkat started. “First, you’ve never seen _Annie_ , which is the only viable excuse for screwing up a reference to it so disturbingly. Second, if you _have_ seen Annie, you’re into some weird shit and I’m not comfortable staying here any longer regardless of whether or not I feel like a burden.”

Dave looked at the other briefly, an almost-smile on his lips.

“Say what you want, but Annie, Twist, Batman, Harry Potter, and I are going to throw a boss-ass shindig and you are not invited,” he said.

“I’ve never been so ashamed to still have a biological guardian.”

“Good. We’re gonna be enjoying our surplus of porridge courtesy of MC Twist.”

Karkat snorted and the shaded jackass continued on.

"Shit man, you’re obviously bursting with jealousy and I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Every Sunday, we go to a different church seeking out a priest so that we can finally have a man to call ‘father.’”

“Okay, Strider. That’s probably too far.”

“I’m adopted, I can say whatever the fuck I like about orphans and our various questionable and/or nigh-problematic activities,” he laughed.

Karkat pulled his feet up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged. It occurred to him that the program they were watching on TV had quieted itself.

“You fucked up your metaphor, by the way.”

“What?”

“Originally, you were referring to me as Oliver Twist, but then suddenly you went on a tangent about how he and you were gonna throw a ‘boss-ass shindig’ without me. Please explain how I can be on both sides of the velvet bitch rope at once,” Karkat said.

Dave was silent for a moment.

“Maybe you’re, like, playing jump rope with it? I didn’t really think that one all the way through,” he replied. “Fine, you can join the orphan club. But I get first dibs on religious leaders.”

“My dad’s a priest, actually,” Karkat remarked.

Dave turned himself so that he could face the other a bit easier, showing a hint of surprise. “Really? Like Christian or…?”

“Yeah. Catholic.”

“I didn’t think that could happen. Like, that they could have children.”

“Well, for the most part, they aren’t supposed to, but there are loopholes. And even then, there are still groups of people with some type of deluded self-superiority which makes it impossible for them to take him seriously just because he has sons.”

“How’d he hack the chastity rule?”

Karkat sighed, drawing one of his knees up and interlocking his fingers around it. He’d explained this a million times to a million people before. At least he was sure Dave wouldn’t be sending him disdainful sneers every Sunday for it.

“That rule only applies to you when you’re in the priesthood. Dad had my brother with my mom; then eight years later, they had me. She died of breast cancer when I was two and Dad had always really loved God, so I guess he thought throwing himself into working for the church was the best way to cope. They were hesitant to accept him because raising two boys by yourself is pretty fucking tough and incredibly time-consuming, but Kankri was old enough to help out. Anyway, the point is that he isn’t with a woman anymore. The church can’t have anything to complain about since he’s not getting laid.”

“Oh. Nice, but now I feel like I have to warn you that my Bro produces porn for a living.”

Karkat was thankful that Dave hadn’t reacted with pity to his story- and then he was confused.

“...”

“Puppet porn. It’s his niche, more accurately. Like, the man is apparently so fucking talented at that one creepy fetish he’s basically monopolized the whole concept of muppet-banging. If I wasn’t constantly paranoid that he was filming me for his website I’d actually be pretty proud of the guy.”

Karkat shifted uncomfortably.

“Have you heard of any of his websites? They get literally billions of hits a day. I don’t even wanna know what kind of sexually-contorted perverts use his site for whacking off, but they’re paying for my electricity and internet and sound equipment, so I ain’t one to complain. But to be honest I kind of wonder what things a man must see in his bastardized lifetime to crave a piece of kermit cock. There must be something enticing about a green felt dick and I just haven’t unwrapped the mystery yet-”

“Please for the love of God and all things holy, shut the fuck up.”

“My sister looks at his websites sometimes. She said she likes them. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Strider.”

“I mean, girl has got to be joking right?”

“STRIDER.”

“What?”

“You never shut your trap long enough for your brain to decide ‘hm, maybe i _don’t_ need to say that,’ do you?”

“That’s my endearing character trait.”

Karkat groaned in response. His eyes flitted over to the suitcase again, wondering briefly how much clothing he had actually packed, and if a family like the Striders would even have a washing machine.

“Why are you telling me about this?” he asked.

“Because holy cleric versus puppet porn producer is pretty much the widest discrepancy there can possibly be between two careers. It was a warning, is all,” Dave shrugged.

After gaining no reply, he followed Karkat’s line of sight.

“Oh, did you want to unpack?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch?”

“As pleasant as you seemed yesterday, the dormant volcano doesn’t stifle its eruption with a makeshift throw blanket and one shitty pillow. I don’t need you bitching at me because your neck aches a couple of days from now,” Dave pointed out.

Karkat followed him into an adjacent room after picking up his case.

“Bee-tee-dubs, laundry day was yesterday, so the sheets are clean,” Strider said.

Karkat glanced around the room. It was a mess. A bed without any sort of headboard sat in the corner next to a desk built out of plywood and cinder blocks. There were wires everywhere, each leading to a computer, a speaker, or some kind of soundboard. Posters of various, most-likely unrelated things lined the walls. He was sure he saw a bottle of apple juice peeking out of the closet.

There was one shelf which held a collection of jars and containers. Upon further inspection, Karkat gathered that the majority of them were meant to preserve dead creatures.

He shouldn’t- no, couldn’t- complain. This was a thousand times nicer than sleeping under a bridge.

“Is this your bedroom?”

Dave was already at his computer desk, straightening up a stack of magazines that deserved far less attention than the rest of the room.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “Bro usually sleeps on the couch. We could probably afford an apartment with two bedrooms, but he says he’s saving up for something big. I don’t know exactly what it is yet, but it’s gotta be goddamn radical.”

Karkat stood in the doorway like an idiot, casting his eyes around the space and wondering where he was meant to put his suitcase.

“I’ll help you unpack if you want,” Dave suggested.

“I’m not a toddler. I can handle this by myself.”

“Your trust issues are going to hinder my host skills, dude. I won’t have that.”

“Can you promise to be quiet if I let you help me?”

“I can promise an attempt.”

“...Good enough.”

Five minutes later, Dave was sitting on his bed next to the bag, pulling out clothing and passing them to Karkat, who refolded and placed them on one of Dave’s desks. When the former reached the bottom, he found the reminiscent pieces Karkat had brought with him.

Rosary, piece of scribbled-on paper, flashdrive, weird toy, keychain, crab thing, eight ball, tie, playbill...

And what was that? A dildo? Oh my fucking god.

“Vantas,” Dave couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice. Karkat hummed in question. He turned and his eyes fell onto the giant neon-turquoise monstrosity resting innocently in Strider’s hands.

“I- That’s- Terezi-” Karkat stuttered, his face blooming the color of rosewood.

Dave started to cackle. He rocked onto his back, head turned up toward the ceiling. The occasional “oh my god” or “jesus shit man” would jump from his throat between bouts of laughter. Karkat could feel himself aflame in humiliation.

“Strider, I will shove a nest of hornets so far up your ass they’ll colonize the sponge substitute you call a brain and start a film franchise which exclusively produces documentaries about the lack of any intelligent life in said barren wasteland,” he spat.

“Okay, okay. I’m done,” Dave sat up, pinching his side. “Your face is hilarious right now. I already know about the dildo. You didn’t think Terezi came up with that by herself, did you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“A good chunk of that plan was me, dude.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Why would you bring this? How could this possibly come in handy?”

“It seemed rational at the time…” Karkat muttered. He internally slapped himself again.

A thought appeared to strike Dave.

“You haven’t... _used_ this, have you?” he asked, horrified, slowly setting the dildo down at the far end of the bed.

Karkat deadpanned. “No. I haven’t. And thank the lord, because now you won’t have to worry about amputating your hand.”

“Just checking,” Dave exhaled in relief. "Anyway, I'll be on the couch. If you're still here when Bro comes back, we'll just figure out a new arrangement."

"I won't be here that long."

"A’ight, but just in case. I'll leave you alone now." Dave stood from the bed and moved over to Karkat.

He picked up the boy's limp wrist, positioned it in front of him, and fist-bumped it in the most pathetic, awkward way possible. With a comical smile, he turned to leave.

Karkat spoke when Dave was nearly out the door.

"Why-" he started, but lost his voice for a moment. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Dave paused with his hand on the door.

"Because it'll piss you off, obviously." he said, sarcasm infused in his voice.

Karkat chucked a t-shirt at him. Dave shut the door before it could make contact. The shirt fell to the floor without a sound.

_What an ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to call this a filler chapter, but there's actually some important stuff in there.  
> It's also kind of necessary for pacing, because we're reverting back to "oh god angst why does everything suck so much dick all the time" next chapter, and I thought we could use a break before that.  
> This has also been a lot shorter than the previous ones, but I'd rather be cranking one out every 1-2 months rather than a giant, shitty exposition after 7.
> 
> Thanks again to LiterallyKanaya and WowGiveMeTheMoney for beta-ing!


End file.
